


Persuasion

by jillyfae



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Family Drama, Love at First Sight, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reunions, Separations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 10:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: There are myriad reasons to be careful of your status, your reputation, your heart... and only one cause to ignore them all.Sometimes even love's not enough.But occasionally, if you're lucky, you get a second chance.





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalecCrazedAuthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecCrazedAuthor/gifts).



> Because every fandom should have Persuasion AU's. And maleccrazedauthor is a terrible (wonderful) influence.
> 
> I apologize for the unexpected lack of updates (life is fraught sometimes) but this has not been abandoned! (I am, however, attempting to finish the first draft before I start posting, so I don't accidentally miss something in the middle, and it may take awhile.) Please accept my many and profuse apologies for the delay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [inktober prompt: seasons](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166404791313)

There was only one Season that mattered, and you were either a part of it... or not.

Alec wished he was _not_.

He’d hope this year would be better than last: Isabelle successfully _Out,_ Max still too young to begin, Aline back from her Grand Tour to help him hold up walls and be an occasional and unexceptional dance partner with no danger of _intentions_ getting in the way.

But his parents were increasingly involved in meetings and politics, working all hours, so it was going to fall on him to _represent the family name._

Over and over and over.

He wished he could pretend to a headache occasionally. But he’d seen his mother stand in a receiving line with a twisted ankle for two hours, so if he tried it she’d just lift that one eyebrow at him.

_We are Lightwoods, Alec._

She’d never said more than that. She’d never had to say more than that. He knew his duty, and he’d do it.

However terrible he was at it.

However wonderful Isabelle was at the social whirlwind of the Season, just to emphasize his own failures.

Not that he begrudged Isabelle her fun. Not that she _meant_ to emphasize his failings. But still.

But still.

He was a Lightwood, and he would escort his sister to every damnable dinner in Town if necessary. If only she didn’t enjoy them so much, then at least they could complain together.

He caught himself pacing up and down the hall, and frowned to himself as he settled his weight on his heels to hold himself still.

You'd think, if she wanted to go so much, _she'd be ready on time._

He'd been dressed nearly a quarter hour, and there still wasn't a hint of Isabelle descending the stairs to meet him.

He sighed, and leaned back against the wall.

Isabelle would tell him they were _supposed_ to be late, both to be polite to their hosts and to properly display their own consequence, but why send an invitation if no one was supposed to arrive at the time written upon it?

He could time a morning visit to the most appropriate _second..._ but dinner parties were something else entirely.

He missed morning visits being the extent of his regular obligations. No one expected him to dance or flirt before luncheon.

Not that he danced or flirted much after supper either, but at a party everyone _noticed._

At least it was supposed to be a quiet party, no orchestra, no dancing. Early enough in the Season that not everyone was in Town yet, not everyone was Out. There'd probably be some unofficial twirling about later, some poor lady dragged to the piano to encourage it all, but that was easy enough to avoid. His father was a stickler enough for the proprieties he could even pretend not to see it at all.

Sometimes Lord Lightwood being a snob was useful.

Maybe he should try and get a waistcoat in _stripes_ so he'd blend in with the wallpaper at the Herondale's Ball in a sennight, and could avoid the dancing then too?

He snorted softly to himself, and straightened up in relief at the familiar quick taps of his sister's footsteps approaching.

_Finally._

Isabelle laughed softly at the look upon his face. "Look at it this way, brother," she suggested, even as he offered her his arm. "The later we start, the sooner you can leave?"

Alec shook his head, but he knew he was smiling nonetheless.

* * *

It was impossible to keep smiling.

He hadn't considered that this was entirely the sort of party that wasn't _technically_ a Ball, dinner and cards and a receiving room of whispering voices and rustling silks, and thus _just_ small enough to attract a coterie of new young ingenues who wouldn't technically be Out until their Balls in the next few weeks.

He remembered Isabelle doing exactly the same last year. _It's only a_ card party, _Mother._

No one he knew, none of Jace's or Isabelle's friends, no one of his own rank whom he'd managed a conversation or a tea with over the years was interested in wasting their time with him; they were all aiming higher, at the sons of Barons and Earls and Dukes. Instead, he was being eyed up by every second or third daughter just barely old enough to attend, every young Miss whose father couldn't yet claim a _Sir_ before his name and wanted better for her own sons. Every young Downworlder who wished a connection to the Nephilim families. Marriages outside the gentry were rare, but they did happen, just enough to keep people hoping.

He might only be a Mister until his father died, but the Lightwood name was old enough, respectable enough, that that future _Lord_ was too enticing to ignore.

Even staring silently down his nose at the flock that had descended upon him wasn't working; they just giggled and fluttered their fans at each other, and refused to take even a half-a-step further away.

They weren't demons; he couldn't _stab_ them.

There were barely half-a-dozen of them, and he was trapped. He was never going to survive a fortnight after they were all announced and angling for attention, never mind the entire Season.

"I do beg your pardon... "

Alec turned quickly towards the new voice, much too quickly to be politic, and then stopped.

The man looking at him had his eyebrows raised, with black hair and a hint of... was that blue at the tips of his fingers? Was that _mother-of-pearl_ framing the quizzing glass he was lifting? Lace cuffs were artfully draped across his hands, his lapel pin was a _lily,_ obscenely deep and wide open, there was embroidery on his collar points, white on white so as to be almost invisible, a subtle contrast to the hand-painted waistcoat and the way his bright blue dinner-coat fit snugly across his shoulders.

The shine on his boots was glossy enough Alec could see the shadow of his own open mouth.

Alec shut his mouth with something perilously close to an audible snap.

The man ought to have looked _ridiculous._

He was the least ridiculous looking man Alec had ever seen, and Alec suddenly didn't know what to do with his feet or his hands. Because he wasn't just some man. No runes, no ornamental stele. There was only one person in society who would look like, who _could look like..._ Alec had heard of Magnus Bane, who hadn't _heard_ of Magnus Bane, but he hadn't met, hadn't expected, hadn't, he hadn't... he had entirely forgotten how to talk.

"Um?" He managed, upon realizing Mr. Bane's eyebrows had kept going until they were almost up to his hairline.

But there was a hint of something like gentle amusement in the faint lines by his eyes, and Alec felt his breath shudder as he exhaled.

"I do _hate_ to interrupt," Mr. Bane began again, the slightest lift on one side of his mouth making it clear he didn't hate anything at all about this conversation. "But you are Mr. Lightwood, yes?"

Alec nodded, suddenly afraid of what might happen if he attempted to talk. He could feel about twelve different sentences attempting to come out at once, from _yes, I am_ to _you're really Magnus Bane?_ to _how did you get that golden color around your eyes_ to _would you like to meet at my Club tomorrow and never ever leave?_ and he was rather sure he wouldn't be able to pick one in time to prevent himself from stuttering.

For at least a day.

"If I may?" Mr. Bane gestured to the side, and Alec's eyes widened before he managed another nod, a half an awkward bow at the circle of ladies watching a little too avidly, a murmured _if you'll excuse,_ before he gratefully took the escape offered him and followed Mr. Bane to an unoccupied side-table at the edge of the room.

"How can I? I mean, what, could I off-, can I, help?" Alec heard his own voice lift too much for a proper question, but was so relieved he'd finally managed to stop talking he decided there were worse things.

"Not at all," Mr. Bane's smile widened. "I was introduced to your lovely sister but a moment ago, and when I inquired about her escort, she asked me quite prettily to come rescue you." He leaned in closer, and Alec could smell a hint of something sweet, some perfume he didn't recognize but liked immediately. "Was it a successful rescue, Mr. Lightwood?"

"Miraculous," Alec breathed out, and was gifted with the sight of Mr. Bane's smile softening into something he dared to think was pleased surprise. "But I'm afraid, if it's to be a truly satisfactory rescue, we must appear to be involved in a most serious conversation for _at least_ the next quarter hour."

Mr. Bane's mouth opened in a soft chuckle. "I would hate to be accused of being _unsatisfying._ "

Alec swallowed down a throat gone dry. "Never."

"Excellent." Mr. Bane spread his hands wide, the gold around his eyes glinting in the light. "How are you finding the Season this year?"

"I have not yet decided." Alec took a breath, and let it out again before he managed to think enough about what he was going to say to stop. "Are you to be in Town for the Season this year?"

Mr. Bane's smile widened, even as his eyes softened as if still surprised. "I am now."

Alec had to swallow again. "Excellent."


End file.
